His tongue seemed to be everywhere, caressing her neck, darting into her ear, plunging into her mouth, and tantalizing her breasts. He was muttering hot, erotic words against her fevered skin, words that should have shocked her, but only enflamed her more. Then, suddenly, the feelings building inside her burst free of her weak, untutored attempts to hold them back. Deidre cried out Tyrone’s name as she sank beneath wave after wave of frighteningly pleasurable feelings. Then Tyrone was there, around her, over her, inside her. She gasped as he filled her, a sharp pain announcing his invasion. Even as her still-reeling mind recorded the fact that her virginity had just been taken, Tyrone began to move. The intense sensations his hand had produced had begun to ease, but were now reborn. Deidre wrapped her arms and legs around his lean body and clung to him, suffering a heady mixture of anxiety and greed.
She slid her hands down Tyrone’s back and grasped his taut buttocks, not sure if she sought to hang on or push him deeper, but doing both. He groaned and moved faster, then slipped his hand between their straining bodies. Tyrone touched her, one brief stroke of one long finger near where their bodies were joined, and Deidre felt herself shatter. Even as she shuddered from the force of the pleasure cascading through her, he slid his arm beneath her hips, holding her as close to him as humanly possible. She held on to him tightly as he jerked inside her a few times, called out her name, and shuddered in her arms. He sprawled on top of her, his hot, swift breaths heating her neck as she tried to keep a grip on him despite the increasing lethargic weakness in her limbs.
“Hell, Deidre, I think sugar might be the wrong word,” Tyrone said after a few moments, easing the intimacy of their embrace and propping himself up on his elbows so that he could look at her.
For one brief moment Deidre was embarrassed, recalling all they had just done and the fact that they were lying together naked as the day they were born. Then she shook aside the feeling. He was her lover now. Although she had no intention of becoming scandalously immodest, at moments such as these, too much modesty could easily steal away the beauty and the pleasure. If she was going to be his lover, she intended to be a very good one. It was one way in which she might be able to pull more from him than his passion. She was taking a big gamble here and she had to play her hand with skill and daring, holding back nothing. If she lost this gamble she would have enough regrets without adding a lot of if onlys to the pot.
“What would you call it then?” she asked quietly, idly sliding her foot up and down his hair-roughened calf.
“A frenzy.”
She smiled, then laughed softly. “Oh, yes, it was that.” Deidre trailed her fingers up and down his strong arm, enjoying the feel of smooth, warm skin stretched tautly over his muscles. “Definitely a fever of some sort.”
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked quietly, even though he saw no sign that she was in any pain.
“No, not really. If there was any, I believe the, er, frenzy we were both caught up in eased the blow.” She grimaced faintly as she became aware of the dampness between her thighs and a mild sense of being chafed. “I do think, however, that I will slip into the bathroom for a moment. Did you see what happened to my robe?” she asked even as she started to glance around the room.
Tyrone reached down and retrieved her robe from where it had fallen by the side of the bed. He waited until she had disappeared into the bathroom before getting out of bed. It relieved him to see that there was not much blood on the sheet or on him. He moved to where a pitcher of water and a bowl were set on a table beneath a small mirror and washed up, then tossed the water out of the window. He poured himself a small glass of whiskey, walked back to the bed, slipped beneath the covers, and sat with his back against the headboard as he sipped his drink.
In all of his little fantasies about making love to Deidre he had not once imagined what had actually happened. The moment she had said yes, had let her passion run free of the bonds of innocence and modesty, he had lost control. That had never happened before. He had never been that aroused or that satisfied. Although it was glorious, his body already stirring in readiness for another taste, it was also troubling.
There was the possibility that it would burn out as fast as it had flared up, yet instinct told him that would not happen. It could also be the danger they shared, that constant threat of death adding a sharp edge to their passion. It could simply be because Deidre was so different from the sort of women he usually lusted after. A slender, sharp-tongued redhead was not what usually drew his eye.
Tyrone shied away from another possible explanation for the keen sense of oneness he had found in her arms. After two wretched, embarrassing, and painful entanglements in the past, the word love left a bitter taste in his mouth. He did not trust the emotion, did not like the way it could blind and weaken a man. It also did not seem quite sane to love a woman he had only known for a few days. Passion he could trust. So, too, a liking and a respect for the woman Deidre was. Tyrone decided to keep his mind fixed upon those. If the passion he and Deidre shared was still running hot and strong by the time they reached Paradise, he would consider all of his options before he let her leave him. As far as he was concerned, passion, friendship, and respect formed a firmer basis for a relationship than some elusive, deceptive emotion like love. If all three were still there when their trials were at an end, Tyrone decided he just might consider something else he had assiduously avoided for years—marriage. He knew he would be a fool if he allowed a woman who held his interest in and out of bed to get away.
* * *
Deidre dried herself off as she watched the few inches of hot water she had filled the tub with drain away. That brief wash and soak had felt good, easing the faint sting caused by the loss of her virginity. She was glad there had been so little blood, for she suspected too much could easily have killed her newly born passion. She had felt little pain at the loss of her innocence and no real shame over that loss now. No matter how deeply she searched within her heart, she could find no regret over the choice she had made. The only unease she felt concerned what would happen when the journey to Paradise was at an end, but she decided it did no good to worry over it. She would win her gamble or lose, and no amount of fretting would push the odds in her favor.
She donned her robe and moved to clean her teeth, sighing as she studied her face in the small oval mirror over the sink. There was no visible sign that she was now what many people would consider a fallen woman. Neither did she see any evidence of what was in her heart. It was curious, for Deidre felt there ought to be some look there which revealed the love swelling in her heart, a love she had tried to deny or ignore. The moment she had opened her eyes and looked into Tyrone’s passion-taut features, she had known why she was going to say yes. It was love that had driven her to welcome Tyrone into her arms, into her body. She thought such a profound emotion ought to leave some mark upon her, but about all she thought she could detect was a gleam in her eyes, something that could easily be attributed to the passion she had just tasted. It was probably for the best, as she did not want Tyrone to guess all of her secrets.
As she walked back to the bed and saw him there, his lovely chest bared for her to appreciate, she felt the odd, almost painful skip to her heart that had become all too common. Deidre inwardly shook her head. She had it bad, was probably incurable. Several thoughts as to how she could pull Tyrone into the same snare that now held her so tightly passed through her mind and she shook them away as foolish. If she won him with tricks and games, she would have to play them for the rest of her life. It was best just to be herself and pray that would be enough.
“You are watching me very intently,” she said, giving in to the urge to brush his tousled hair off his forehead.
Tyrone set his empty glass down on the table by the bed. “I guess I keep expecting you to do something.”
“Something virginal or maidenly? Tears, outrage, hysterics?”
He smiled faintly and tugged her down onto the bed at his side. “So
mething like that.”
“Why? I decided. If it turns out that I don’t like the consequences of that decision, well, it is my problem.”
“Consequences?” He slowly untied her robe, grinning when she blushed and quickly slipped beneath the sheets. “How are the consequences so far?” he asked, nibbling at her ear as he removed her robe and tossed it aside.
“Very nice.” She murmured her pleasure and arched to his touch as he stroked her breasts. “Very nice, indeed.” Deidre slid her arms around his neck and rubbed her body against his, smiling when he trembled faintly. “As you said, how can one say no to this?”
He kissed her and Deidre felt the heat of desire flood through her again. The greed she felt for this man was astonishing and a little frightening. It was certainly not going to be a chore to try to touch his heart. She just prayed she had the strength to survive failure, to walk away with dignity and pride intact and pick up the pieces of her life again.
Chapter Seven
“IS SOMETHING WRONG?” DEIDRE asked, frowning when a strangely tense Tyrone yet again looked over his shoulder.
They had lost time, over a week, locked in the boardinghouse by the weather. The light snow had been followed by bitter cold and occasional sleet. Such weather could have caused them as much trouble as the Martins’ henchmen, so they had stayed put. It had been lovely in many ways, a moment out of time. She and Tyrone had come to know each other well, physically and emotionally. Even their arguments had taught her something about the man. She was even more in love with him, yet, sadly, still unsure of his feelings.
“I just get the feeling we’re being followed,” Tyrone answered.
“If we couldn’t leave because of the weather, then certainly no one could have reached us for the same reason.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. We needed a whole day to get to the next resting stop. The ones after us may have been a lot closer.”
“Do we keep riding?”
“Not much choice.”
“We really can’t afford another long delay, either, can we?”
“Nope. I’d like to get to Paradise by Christmas.”
So would she, but Deidre did not say so. Heartbreak might be waiting for her in Paradise, but so, too, might Maura. Thanksgiving had come and gone and she had sharply missed sharing the day with her cousin. She did not want to miss another important holiday with the last of her family.
She glanced up at the dull winter sky and sighed. There were still several hours left before they reached the next of Tyrone’s stops. Deidre was chilled to the bone, her backside ached, and now she felt the constant urge to look behind her, certain that their enemies were right there. They were dangerously exposed as they rode along and she tried not to think about how easy it would be for one of the men after them to just shoot them out of their saddles.
“Tyrone?” she called, the return of the threat she had foolishly thought they had outrun making her think of something she had not yet done.
“See something?” he asked, glancing behind them again.
“No, but I just realized that this might be a good time to tell you what I have done with the papers.”
Easing his horse up next to hers, he reached out and stroked his mittened hand over her cheek. “I figured you had them somewhere safe.”
“I do, but . . .” She sighed. “Well, considering that we have who knows how many people looking for us and eager to stop us, it might be a good idea if you also knew where that safe place is. After all, the whole purpose of this trip is to get those papers back to Paradise. If anything happens to me, you will have to grab those papers and run with them.”
Tyrone did not even want to think of something happening to her. It sent shivers down his spine and knotted up his insides with fear. At some time during their sensual days and nights in the last town, he had accepted that she was important to him.
“Nothing will happen to you.”
“I certainly hope not, but I don’t think I want to tempt fate by being too cocky, either.”
“So, where are they then?”
“I have them tucked in a hidden pocket under my petticoats.” She blushed faintly when he stared at her skirts and idly wondered how, after all they had shared, she could have a scrap of modesty left.
“I’m surprised I didn’t find them at some time during the last week,” he muttered.
She shrugged. “It’s not that noticeable. It seemed the safest place. Bags can be stolen, rooms can be searched.”
“So can you.”
“True, but I felt that, if matters had taken that bad a turn, it really didn’t matter much. I wasn’t going to be getting to Paradise anyway.”
“True. Thanks for telling me.” It was a good thing to know, yet he wished she had not told him, for it made him far too aware of the dangerous circumstances they were trapped in.
“I was a little surprised that you hadn’t asked again, after that first day.”
“You said you had them and you were going with me. It wasn’t all that important to know exactly where you had them.”
Tyrone glanced behind them again, unable to shake the uneasy feeling that had dogged him for the last few hours. It would take them about two more hours to get to where they were going, and he began to feel that that was two hours too many. Something was not right, but he could not figure out what it was, or what he could do to try to protect them both. The danger was there, he was sure of it, but, unless he could see where it was coming from, he could not avoid it.
He nudged his mount to a slightly faster pace, glad to see Deidre quickly follow suit. If there was someone tailing them, moving a little faster would make little difference, but it did make him feel as if he was doing something other than scanning the horizon. He did know, however, that he would feel a great deal safer if he could get them behind the walls of the cabin he was heading for. It was a small hunting cabin of his uncle’s, not intended to withstand much of a siege, but it would mean that their enemies would then be the ones out in the open.
When the attack came it was all over before Tyrone or Deidre could do anything to save themselves. The shot was still echoing in the cold air when Deidre saw Tyrone slump in the saddle. She screamed and tried to grab the reins of his panicked horse. Jim and Pete flanked her even as Tyrone’s too limp body disappeared into the distance. The only clear thought she had for a moment was that it was odd he had not fallen off the galloping horse. Then she stared at the two men who had captured her and wondered how they intended to kill her.
“Damnation, Pete,” grumbled Jim as he grabbed the reins of Deidre’s horse. “We’ll never catch him.”
“Don’t matter,” replied Pete. “He ain’t going to bother us now.”
“So, little lady,” said Jim as he turned his attention to her. “Where are them papers?”
“What papers?” she said, surprised at how calm she sounded, for inside she was screaming out her grief and fury.
“You can tell us now or wait for us to get you somewhere where we can have us a good time looking for them.”
She did not really need to see the leers that twisted their ugly faces to know what they meant. Murdering her obviously was not enough for them, they meant to add rape to their many crimes. A hard, cold knot of fear began to twist her insides, but she fought to hide it from them. It was hard to stir any hope in her heart with the sight of Tyrone’s limp body still emblazoned on her mind, but she struggled to grasp hold of some. At the moment, she was too numb to think of any way she could escape their plans, but, until they actually began their attack on her, she still had a chance.
“The papers are on Tyrone’s horse,” she said.
Briefly both men look dismayed, then Pete scowled at her, suspicion beginning to narrow his eyes. “I think you’re lying.”
“Do you now?”
“Let’s argue this later, Pete,” Jim said. “I’m freezing my ass off.”
“Fine. We’ll go to that little cabin a mile or two ahead and sort thi
s out,” snapped Pete.
“What do we do if she’s telling the truth?”
“Then we’ll have to go looking for that fool. He won’t have got far. Horse won’t run till it drops.”
“Yeah, but there’s a lot of country to look over. It won’t be easy.”
“We’ll just look for the buzzards.”
Those cold words horrified Deidre so much, she was unable to say a word as they led her away. The image scarred her mind and made it impossible to think of any plan for her own safety. A part of her wondered what the point was of trying to save herself if Tyrone was dead, but she found the strength to brutally silence it. There was a job to finish, for her father’s sake and now for Tyrone’s. She did not want to die, either, no matter how painful it would be to go on.
By the time they reached the cabin, Deidre had managed to calm herself enough to begin to think more clearly. Grief and fear made a hard, choking knot in her throat, but she had conquered the worst of it. Now was not the time to give in to it. It would only make her easier to kill.
Jim shoved her into the cabin, pushed her into a chair in front of the cold fireplace, and tied her to it. As she watched the two men unload the supplies and light a fire, she tried to think of some way to put a stop to their plans. At the moment she was completely helpless, but, if they truly intended to rape her, they would have to untie her. That would be when her chance might come. Although she was only one tiny woman against two burly men; she was not totally helpless.
Once the two men were in the cabin, the door locked, they untied her. It was a start, she mused as she rubbed her wrists trying to ease the chafing caused by the too tight ropes. There were still two somewhat meaty obstacles between her and freedom, but at least she could move now. She was going to need a weapon and she began to look around the small cabin in search of one.
“Get off your ass, woman, and cook us some food,” said Jim.
Deidre stared at the man as if he was totally devoid of sense. “You expect me to feed you before you kill me?”
A Stockingful of Joy Page 7
