Desert Sunrise

by Raine Cantrell

  He looked at her then, seeing the earnest expression on her face, and he found himself smiling. “Why should you care?”

  Startled, Faith lowered her head. Her hand stilled on Joey, and she realized he had fallen asleep. “I care because it matters so much to you.”

  “Faith,” he whispered, raising her chin with one hand. “I’m trouble for you, duchess, in more ways than you know.”

  She covered his hand with hers, shaking her head. The hard, warm, resilient strength of his hand moved easily as she raised it to her lips and pressed a kiss in the center of his palm. She saw his nostrils flare and the darkening of his eyes at the same moment desire came to life in her. With a gentle touch her fingertips pressed his lips.

  “You tried to warn me from the beginning. My heart doesn’t seem to listen very well to your words.” She gazed down at her sleeping brother. “My eyes see the gentleness in you no matter how much you try to hide it, Delaney. But I know you won’t make promises. You can’t. And if you did, well…” She stopped herself from saying more. She could not tell him of her past. She trusted Delaney, but the soft warmth in his eyes would quickly disappear if he knew the truth about the night Martin had died.

  Joey stirred and Delaney shifted the boy’s weight in his arms before coming to his feet in a tightly coordinated move.

  “I’ll put him in the wagon.”

  Faith started to rise when he looked back.

  “Wait for me.”

  “Yes. I’ll wait.”

  Chapter 12

  Faith walked to the front of the wagon and looked beyond to see that Pris sat with her father and several of the troopers. Her little sister giggled at something one of the soldiers said, and Faith smiled, too. The sun was brassy overhead, and she knew they would rest here for a few more hours before pushing on. For once she felt no urge to hurry and clean up after their meal. The fire was a mere glow, the coffeepot and cooking kettle already pulled off to the side. Men lay about in the shade cast by the wagon, resting against their saddles. Since she was behind the second wagon, she didn’t believe anyone would disturb them.

  She sensed rather than heard Delaney behind her. With a nervous gesture she touched her hair, wishing she had time to brush it and smooth it into a coil. Turning, she saw that he carried a quilt. Her smile slipped, and when she glanced into the blaze of his eyes, she felt as if the lightning from the storm had pierced her, bursting like fire inside her. She took a short, sharp breath and watched him toss the quilt on the ground in the shade cast by the body of the wagon. He picked up the two abandoned plates of food and stood waiting, not saying a word, until she sat down before he handed her one and then joined her.

  By day the desert stretched out, appearing more desolate than it ever did by moonlight. Faith ate without tasting the food, staring at the dun-colored earth that reflected the sun’s hot glare. The land was broken by a few red rock outcrops, an occasional towering saguaro cactus, and a few clumps of thorny, low-growing ocotillo bushes.

  After setting aside her half-finished plate, she smoothed her gown. “You love this land,” she began without looking at him. “That love shows with every word you speak about it. Joey knows, so does Pris. You’ve taught them to see beauty and life where most people see nothing but barrenness.”

  “And you, Faith? Do you see its beauty, too?” Delaney lost his taste for food and leaned over to set his plate away from them. With his legs stretched out full length, he slouched down, tucking his arms behind his head, watching her.

  “I’ve found a peace here that I’ve never known. And a special beauty that you reveal.” She hesitated, drawing small circles with one finger on the quilt. “Sometimes it’s hard to put feelings into words.”

  “Yeah,” he found himself agreeing in a husky voice, each one of his hands gripping the forearm of the other so he couldn’t reach out and pull her down to show her the feelings that had his body tense with a bold, surging rush.

  Faith turned to him, and he saw within her eyes, those haunting turquoise-hued eyes, the same wanting that filled him. Her gaze fell to his mouth. There was hunger in her look, but Delaney knew as long as he didn’t move, didn’t act on what she was revealing to him, they were both safe.

  He closed his eyes briefly, burying the temptation to kiss her until she melted with him in a hot passion that wouldn’t leave either one of them with the strength left to lick their lips. He felt his body change at the thought of falling asleep with the sweet taste of Faith in his mouth, her body, soft and hot around him … Expelling a sharp breath, Delaney wrenched his thoughts to another track.

  “There’s a good chance the patrol will ride escort for you to Tucson.”

  Faith withdrew, raising her knees and wrapping her arms around them. She wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t understand what he was saying. “You want to leave us.”

  “Want? No. There are things I have to do, an’ time’s getting away from me.”

  “Because of what Seanilzay told you,” she said, wishing she could tell him how she felt about him. Slowly nodding, she added, “Losing them both must have been very hard on you. There are times when I wish my mother was alive. My father wasn’t bitter the way he is now.”

  “No matter how much you wish for it, you can’t go back and change things.”

  “But that’s what you’re trying to do, Delaney,” she pointed out.

  “No. I’m going to make the man responsible for their deaths pay.”

  “And if you’re hurt or lose your life, will the price be worth it?”

  “I never thought about it that way. It’s something I must do or I can’t live with myself.”

  Somehow she knew that was going to be his answer. She wanted to argue with him, but it would be senseless to do so. Delaney would walk his own paths and find his own way.

  “Don’t care so much, duchess,” he whispered, losing his own battle not to touch her. He slid one hand free to trace down the length of her spine with the flat of his palm. His thoughts and world narrowed down to the warmth of her body. “Faith, look at me.” He murmured her name again, and when she turned, he shifted so he could brush her cheek with his fingertips. Her smile that invited his made him think he had never seen anyone as pretty as his duchess was at this moment.

  “I wish I could keep your smile with me always. Nights when I’m alone, I’d want to take it out and be warmed better than a fire.”

  “Del?” She had to blink back the sting of sudden tears, remembering the first day she saw him and the feeling she had of his always being alone, with no one to care for him. Covering his hand with hers, she pressed it against her cheek. “I wish I could give you my smile to keep. I wish—”

  His fingers moved to her jaw while his thumb dragged across her soft mouth in a savagely arousing motion. “And I wish I had your mouth.” His thumb rubbed more insistently against her bottom lip, forcing it open, his gaze holding hers.

  A quiver began inside, and Faith felt the fever that came with it. Her desire was there for him to feel and see. With a slight twist of her head, she freed her lips from his touch.

  “I’ve never said no.”

  He levered himself up even as she leaned into him, tilting her head, offering her mouth. He brushed his lips lightly across hers, drinking in her quick, little breath. He never knew there could be such pleasure in so chaste a kiss and came back for more. Another butterfly touch, then another.

  Sweet fire came with her sigh over his lips. With a hesitant, delicate touch, she returned his kiss. The soft, delicate touches weren’t enough for either of them. Delaney settled his mouth over hers, tasting hot satin, and began to rock his lips with ever changing pressure until they had to separate to breathe, only to meet once more, clinging a little deeper, a little harder each time.

  Faith reached up to cup his cheek, her hand as soft as the glide of his up and down her back. She felt bathed in heat, trembling from the exquisitely restrained kisses they shared.
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  Pleasure shimmered through Delaney to his bones. He had never kissed a woman like this, never knew there was passion and tenderness to be had from fragile tastings, and with this sweet surprise, he held himself still, wanting these moments to go on.

  But his finely honed instincts never slept, and he heard the nearing murmur of voices. Lifting his mouth from hers, his quick move put plenty of distance between them just as Private Shellby rounded the wagon.

  Faith still sat half-turned toward Delaney’s prone body. She wasn’t as quick to recover.

  “Miss Becket, your father is looking for you.”

  When Delaney saw that Faith was incapable of answering, he came to his feet in a coordinated rush. “She just put her brother to sleep. The heat’s gotten to her. I’ll see what he wants.”

  Faith was trying to still her aroused senses when Delaney stepped past her.

  “He doesn’t want you, Carmichael,” Shellby said. And with a knowing look, added, “Not many folks do.”

  That brought Faith to her feet. She didn’t care if her lips were still damp and reddened from Delaney’s kisses, she refused to hear one more slur made against him.

  “You delivered your message, Private. There’s no reason for you to remain. I happen to like Delaney Carmichael’s company.”

  “You’re talking to deaf ears, Faith. Don’t waste your breath.”

  “Delaney, wait,” she called.

  Private Shellby glanced from her to Delaney’s retreating back. “You’re new to the territory and may not understand that most decent folks won’t bother with him. He’s got a bad reputation, Miss Becket. People here aren’t any different than they are back East. They will judge you by the company you keep.”

  “I can’t thank you for your advice, Private, although I suppose you mean well.”

  As Faith had expected, her father accepted the patrol’s escort. She refused Private Shellby’s offer to drive her wagon, angry with him for his unwanted attention and his attempts to slander Delaney. She kept Joey close by her side, backing away when he refused to tell her why he had been crying.

  Keith set her mind at rest about Delaney leaving them since they rode with the troopers. Keith spotted him up ahead, and when they made camp that night, Delaney stayed close by.

  With her father’s encouragement talk turned to how well the army was faring against the Indians. Faith was shocked and disgusted to hear their tales of killings. Her senses were so attuned to Delaney that she could feel his mounting anger and tension as he forced himself to sit and listen without answering the goads or trying to defend the Apache.

  The night grew cool, and soon the troopers began to seek their beds. The fire died down, and still Delaney sat, alone, she saw, as she came around the wagon. When she was not more than ten feet from him, he looked up.

  “Go to sleep, duchess. It’s been a long day for you.”

  She listened and, when she decided there was no rejection in his voice, came forward. “I want to be with you, not alone. Don’t you know that, Del?”

  “I know.” He rose and looked off into the distance.

  With his back toward the moon he was cast darkly against the land. Faith felt weak, drawn to him so that she was keenly aware of his intense physical presence, as if he had already touched her. She longed to ease the deep loneliness in him. The feelings were all potent, and she knew now that she was coming to love a man who did not want her love.

  Delaney’s words confirmed it. “That wasn’t really me this afternoon, duchess,” he said in a soft voice that would not carry to the sleeping men.

  “I won’t believe that. You are gentle. You showed me how tender you can be with me. A woman doesn’t find that in many men.”

  “You didn’t?”

  The time was long past for lies. Faith murmured, “No,” and came to his side. She slipped her hand into his, entwining their fingers.

  “Faith, why don’t you talk about your husband?” The moment he spoke, he felt the tension that took hold of her. But he would not relent. He had to know. “Tell me.”

  “Martin shouldn’t have died for what he believed in.”

  “That’s not what I was asking, and you know it.”

  “Quit prodding me, Delaney. I don’t want to talk about him. He’s dead and so is the past. I want to forget.”

  “With me? You could be asking for something you can’t handle, duchess.”

  She heard the underlying warning and looked up at him. “Yes,” she agreed, “I could be. Show me the land you love, Delaney. I learn more about you each time you do.” Her fingers tightened over his. He looked dark and fierce, capable of anything at this moment. Trembling a little, she felt her bravado slip and thought of what she wanted. She heard his teeth grind together. With her free hand she reached up to his jaw. “Do you want me to lie? I won’t.”

  “I’ve been a long time between women, duchess.”

  “Will you ever stop warning me? Is there more? Tell me now, and I’ll listen, but I still want you to show me what you love.”

  Such straightforward honesty was beyond him to deny. Delaney led her out to the desert. Gone were the sounds of the woodpecker shrieks or the rock squirrel whistles that warned of danger. There was a subtle change that Faith immediately felt, both tension and expectancy that she found hard to define. Her mood communicated itself to Delaney, for he gazed at her, squeezing her hand.

  “This late in spring the cactus bloom, but night brings out the predators, so stay close,” he whispered into her ear. Her sharp little intake of breath told him she was already aroused, and he grinned with the bittersweet thought; the feeling never left him. “We’ll stay away from the water hole so the animals can drink.”

  “Is that why you never camp near water? I heard you argue with Sergeant Krome about it.”

  “That’s why. Too many men camp close to the only water for miles. Animals scent them and won’t drink. To deny the water needed for life is a cruelty to the Indian ways. Some animals can’t move in the heat of the day and others can’t move in the cold of the night, so there are only a few hours when the sun sets or just as it rises that they can hunt for water and food.”

  Delaney stopped, listening, and Faith with him. He lifted her hand toward a small outcrop of rocks. She strained to see what caught his attention, and for a moment a coyote was silhouetted in the moonlight before it leapt down and ran.

  “Prey?” she whispered, standing on tiptoe to reach his ear. Delaney nodded and after a few minutes began to walk toward the rocks.

  “The life circle, no different than for us. Sometimes it’s brutal and intense, but without it there would be no life.” He lifted his head as the cool breeze flowed down from the mountains, dropping the temperature. The light faded, and the stars began appearing. He knew Faith had stood and watched this night after night before seeking her bed. He knew because he stood alone and watched her. The air took on an edge of chill, and he freed his hand from hers to slide his arm around her shoulders and bring her closer to his body.

  Faith lifted her skirt hem free of a low-growing bush, loving the deep, soothing sound of his voice as he told her about the cactus used for survival as food and as water for man and horse. When he stopped before close-growing saguaro, he turned to her and placed his hands on her waist. She gave a soft, startled cry when he lifted her high so she could see the blossoms of the cactus.

  “Touch one, Faith. It’s soft as velvet. Doves love the sweet nectar,” he whispered, giving into temptation to brush his lips across the undercurve of her breast. Her tremored response made him repeat the motion.

  “Delaney?” The warmth of his mouth and breath pierced through the thin calico of her gown and the cotton of her camisole to sear her skin. A violent trembling started inside her. She barely managed to brace her hands on the broad, resilient warmth of his shoulders. She inhaled the night scents of the desert along with the smoky male scent that was Delaney’s, leaning her head down to rub
her chin over his thick, dark hair.

  “I wish I could be as gentle as a dove and taste your sweetness.”

  Faith raised her head, tilting it back down to look at his raised face. His features were hard, set in a primitive cast. Her breath caught when she gazed into his eyes. They seemed to glitter with fire.

  “When the bloom fades, the doves can’t wait to feed on the fruit.” His lips brushed across her breast again, sending every word and breath bone deep. He shifted his hold, one arm locking around her waist, the other sliding down to hold her buttocks. For a moment he hesitated, burying his impatience, stilling his hunger, before he raised her up to his lips.

  “Del? Oh, please, Del, I—” Her voice broke. His hot mouth closed over one tightly drawn nipple. She felt as if flames had touched her through layers of cloth. Blood rushed to swell her breast, the feeling so exquisite that she moaned, arching her back, pushing her breast against his mouth.

  It wasn’t enough. She gripped his head, pulling him harder against her, wanting him with a fierce desperation that she couldn’t begin to explain to herself. Whimpers came from her throat, and she twisted in his arms, needing more.

  Desire clenched his gut, and Delaney forced himself to stop suckling her. “Sweet forbidden fruit,” he breathed against the damp cloth clinging to the taut peaked crown, holding tight to her trembling body.

  “N-not … forbidden,” she managed to say, yearning to be touched again.

  “I could feast on you until I know every soft bit of you.” His eyes were savage with need, and his blood thundered through his body. “Do you want that?” The words were thick and guttural, but he couldn’t speak any other way.

  “Yes.” Her gaze lowered to his mouth. “Yes, I want that, too. I…” He slowly slid her down his body, deliberately pressing her over the hardened flesh straining his buttoned fly, and both of them shuddered.

  Damning right and wrong, Delaney took her mouth, need dictating to his body. The fierce urge to mate with her drove him wild.

  His lips covered hers, and he pressed her slender body tight to his. He could feel the soft give of her breasts against his chest. Her tightly drawn nipples bit through his shirt to stab his skin. He shivered in reaction, losing control, unable to tell who trembled the most. Her arms held him, her fingers climbing up the back of his neck to tangle into his hair, every move too frantic with the storm that broke over them for touches to be gentle.