The rigid muscles beneath his palms relaxed, and she softened into him. He moved one hand toward her lower back and the other to the base of her skull to gently tug at her hair. Thankfully taking his urging, she eased her head back and bared her neck to him.
Her chest heaved with fast, passion-filled breaths. His inner beast roared with satisfaction. She was his. Even if she didn’t know it yet and didn’t realize the small movement of acceptance she gave meant something deeper.
He dipped his head and forged a trail of kisses down the sensitive lines of her neck to end at the dip above her clavicle. She clutched his shoulders, and her breath grew frantic, so he returned to her mouth. Devouring her breath as he gave her a taste of the future.
Not the now.
He stretched the moment until even he was about to lose all sense of control, then pulled back. Their chests heaved in unison as he stared into her perfect face. For years he’d fantasized about the feel of her lips beneath his, but never in his dreams had it been like this.
She reached up and traced her finger along his scar. He flinched to pull away, but she pressed her hand gently over the side of his face. “You mustn’t do that again.”
He tipped the corners of his lips back in a grin, but an ache began at the back of his throat at the thought of not kissing her again. He swallowed hard. “You’re mistaken. You’ve crossed the point of no return. There’s no going back.”
“Please, Simon,” she pleaded, her voice soft like the contours of her lips. “You can’t do this to me. It’s cruel.”
He pulled her closer, but didn’t kiss her. “The only thing cruel about this situation, my love, is that we’ve never given in to temptation before. Not that I haven’t wanted to.”
She pushed back against his chest enough to grow a few inches between them. “Then why haven’t you said anything?”
“Because I’m not the man for you.”
“Because of your scars? You know I don’t care about that.”
He dropped his hands and stepped back. Cold mountain air replaced her blessed heat. “Even before that. I’ve never been a man deserving of your affection.”
“Don’t you think I’m the one to decide that?”
“No.”
“No?” She lengthened the distance between them with a few steps. “You must be joking.”
“Women make decisions with their emotions, men with their heads. I do believe I have a better sense of who is right for a woman like you. And I am not, my love.”
“Don’t call me that, and don’t fret. I wouldn’t choose you even if you weren’t my best friend’s brother.”
She’d intended to wound him with her words, and it worked. Much to his irritation. He didn’t want to curse her with his reputation in town, not to mention his appearance, so why did her rejection hurt? What a ninny Carrie made him. A man he didn’t recognize.
“If you’ll excuse me.” She stepped past him. “I need to get to bed.”
She left him standing like the fool he’d turned into ever since his parents’ deaths. He was a bounder not fit to have the only woman he truly wanted, and a man not strong enough to resist the temptation. Despite the potential hazard to her reputation and livelihood. The real reason he was the monster everyone believed him to be.
* * * *
“Beth,” Carrie called out when her friend appeared in the line of men filing toward the wash bin to dispose of their dirty tin plates. Ever since she’d lied to Thomas the night before about having an appointment with her friend, she’d all but picked her apron to threads. Her friend moved down the line toward her and slid her utensils into the water. Carrie looped one arm with Beth’s and guided her off to the side of the crowd. “You aren’t busy this evening, are you?”
“Garrett and I were going to take the wannigan out across the lake.” Beth lowered her chin. “Why?”
Carrie took a quick survey of the crowd to ensure Thomas hadn’t appeared out of nowhere. “I may have lied to a man about why I wasn’t available to sit with him by the fire today. I said you and I had planned to do something.”
Her friend feigned surprise with a dramatic gasp and clasped a hand to her chest. “Beating the devil around the stump are we? Avoiding your responsibilities as Missoula’s most sought-after wifely prospect? How dare you?”
“Please,” she begged. “I’m desperate enough to swim out to the boat and join you and your husband if you leave me with no choice.”
Beth chuckled. “No need. I’ll tell Garrett he’ll have to join the men in the bunkhouse for cards.”
“You will?” To say she spoke the word with poise and dignity would be incorrect. With those two words, she begged. Pleaded for her friend to keep good on her word, and made promises to the most mischievous woman in Missoula. Promises she knew would get her in trouble later.
“You’ve certainly covered for me on several occasions. It’s only right I return the favor.”
Carrie once again looped arms with her bosom friend. “I knew we were kindred spirits for a reason.”
Beth chuckled. “I’ll wait for you to finish. Meet me by the water. Garrett wants to go right now and check out the raft. He swears he’s happy working with the railroad loggers, but he misses being a riverman.”
Carrie peered at the sun slanting low in the sky. “Give me thirty minutes.”
She rushed to her wash bin and started scrubbing. At least she wasn’t lying to anyone. If her mother—and Beth’s many antics—had taught her anything in life, it was that a lie would always turn its ugly head and bite you in the bustle. This way her soul and conscience were clean.
In no time at all she stowed the box of tins and, with a quick excuse to her godmother, hurried toward the lake. As promised, Beth waited at the bank next to her husband. What she didn’t expect was to see Simon with a peavey, adjusting a second bateau next to the first.
Carrie trotted up to her friend as prim as the uneven ground would allow her. Before she could speak, Beth waved toward her brother. “Change of plans. The river crew took the wannigan and left behind the bateaus when they went downstream. Simon suggested we all go across the lake together. He wanted to familiarize himself with the bateau again in case he has to stand in on the river crew later.”
Carrie squinted at the man in question. The irritating, controlling, wounded man. “I wasn’t aware Simon was a riverman.”
Simon pulled the boat higher on the bank to stabilize it from the flowing water, and then walked up to stand beside her. “You never know when you might need to help out a Devil May Care. They are a needy bunch of debutants. Always demanding we timber beasts give them more logs to take down the river.”
“One of these days you’re going to be a Devil May Care. If you’re not careful with your words now you’ll be walking the banks with the river rats.”
“I suppose women much prefer a man who can stay on for more than a few minutes.” Simon winked.
Beth gasped and swatted her brother’s chest with the back of her hand. He flinched, but smiled as Garrett chuckled. Beth smacked him again. “Carrie may be my friend, but she’s still a lady.”
“My apologies,” he said. “I forgot you aren’t as brazen and uncivilized as my sister.”
“It’s fine,” she said, and motioned toward the bateau. “I suppose Beth can take me in one, and the men in the other.”
“Nope.” Simon stalked past her, his head bowed so they made eye contact as he walked past. She followed his movement as he took a stance next to the boat. “You’re with me.”
Carrie stiffened. Alone in a boat with the one man on earth who made her feel like she was a riverman riding a log down an uncontrollable river. She’d traded a chance to be uncomfortable next to a fire with Aunt June’s hawk-like control for one on a boat with Simon. Her mouth watered as the image of his kiss the night before replayed through her memories.
>
She’d been kissed before, but never like the one she had experienced last night. Never had a man stolen the breath from her lungs and masked the wicked sensation with the hazy need for the feel of his mouth. His hot tongue had traced her lips and urged her to open for him. She’d wanted to. In that moment some primal seductress, chained to the post of chastity within her, fought to break free and let her best friend’s brother take her to a place no proper woman should ever visit. Last night, for the barest of seconds, he’d persuaded her to question the need for propriety. Would anyone have known if she’d given in to Simon? He’d been with many women in need of discretion. Surely he could show her how to give in to temptation without so much as a watchful owl knowing she’d given herself to him.
No.
Riding in a boat, alone, with Simon Sanders was dangerous.
She shifted her stance, forced her breath to remain even, and feigned curiosity with her expression—or at least she hoped that’s how her face read. “Doesn’t he need to be tutored by Garrett?”
Garrett chuckled and climbed into the boat next to Beth.
Simon held the boat steady and motioned for her to sit on the seat closest to where he stood. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve already learned the ways of the riverman. I just need some practice.”
“Oh.” Carrie stepped tentatively toward him. Some would say he would not bite, but she knew different. If given the chance, the man before her would bite, lick, lave…whatever he needed to do to make her feel something other than complete control and comfort.
With care to avoid brushing shoulders with him, she climbed in and sat on the seat he’d indicated. She adjusted her skirts and sat, spine straight, folding her hands on her lap.
Simon tossed her a humored smile and launched the boat into the water following Garrett and Beth’s.
She’d expected the ride to tick by with uneasy looks and a few awkward words, but before long the gentle pitch and roll of the small boat calmed her enough to slouch. Off in the distance an eagle screeched, and closer still the gentle lap of the water against the hull brought her mind to nothing but the sensation of the moment.
“See, my love, I’m not such a bad captain.” Simon’s voice broke through the silence.
She rolled her eyes at his newfound nickname for her. To argue, at this point, was naught but a waste of breath. “Have you commanded many ships at sea?”
“I can traverse any difficult water and bypass any obstacle before me.”
“Will you be speaking to me with double implications all evening?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On whether or not I get a chance to teach you the next lesson.”
“Lesson in what?” she asked, despite knowing exactly what he was going to say.
“Seduction, but for now I’ll settle with teaching you how to row.” He yanked the oars in and tossed them at her feet. “Here, have a go. Just dip and pull the way you saw me do it.”
“Dip and pull?” she asked, hesitantly. “And you’re a madman if you think I’m going to let that happen again.”
“Oh, I don’t expect that to happen again.”
“Good,” she huffed, and struggled to get the hang of rowing. They seemed, instead, to float in circles. Which, by the look on Simon’s face, amused him immensely. Perhaps she was wrong, and he meant something else, but she doubted it. He had a way of blacksmithing words to fit his iron-clad intent.
“I expect more.”
“You won’t get it.” She dipped the oars in deep and pulled them at the same time. Sending the boat forward with force. She gave a smug smile, not bothering to hide her pride. It wasn’t like Simon ever disguised his accomplishments behind an expression of humility.
“Haven’t you realized by now that I love a good challenge? And besides working I have nothing else to do up here.”
“So you aim to torture me into submission for the remainder of the season?”
“Yes. The way you tortured my life by bringing me up here.”
“For your own good,” she defended.
“And this will be for your own good.”
“How is promising to ruin me out of spite going to help me in life?”
“Because at least once in your life you will experience true passion at the hands of a master.”
“Such modesty. You’re that confident in your abilities?” Heaven above, why was she being so brazen with her words?
“I’ve no complaints to date. Only satisfied moans.” Simon waved toward the oars. “I’ll take over now.”
She handed him the oars and turned her gaze to the far-off mountains to hide the flicker of desire sparked by the banter. If Simon’s kiss last night was a catalyst for what it was like to be loved by him, then his claim to passion wasn’t in jest. Deep inside she wanted to feel the way he’d made her feel last night. Perhaps whatever husband she married would give her such pleasure. But what if she chose another path? What if she took Aunt June’s position as confirmed spinster and Missoula camp cook? Then the one moment she’d shared with Simon last night would have to hold her over for the remainder of her days. Could she live with that?
She must.
Giving into Simon’s spell again was out of the question. “You won’t hear those moans from me.”
“You’re mistaken,” he answered, simply. He maneuvered toward where Beth and Garrett floated. With a few deep strokes, they pulled near the other couple’s boat. Simon inclined his head toward Garrett. “I’m gonna pull her into the cove over there. My shoulder scars are pulling something fierce.”
Beth perked her head up. “Are you all right?”
He waved off her concern. “Yes, yes. I just need a break. Don’t wait for us. I’ll be back in when I’ve worked out the pain.”
“Should we come in with you?” Beth asked.
“No.” After a silent moment, he continued, “Don’t worry about Carrie. I’ll ensure she gets back safe. Tell Aunt June not to send a search party.”
“Okay, but be careful coming back. It’ll be dark soon.”
“I can navigate in the dark, Lizbe,” Simon replied, and then eased the boat in the direction of the nearby shore.
Carrie glanced behind to see Garrett and Beth turning toward the lumber camp. She faced Simon again. “How bad does it hurt?”
To her surprise, he answered with a simple, sensual smile.
Chapter 8
Carrie’s white-knuckled grip on the seat beneath her rivaled that of a Gospel Sharp’s clutch to his Bible come Judgment Day. With a single look, Simon had told all. Somewhere between the stinging nettle and marigolds, he planned to seduce her.
The boat jostled as it came to a rest on the bank. Simon leapt from his seat, secured the boat, and extended his hand to help her out.
She shook her head and tightened her grip on the wood. “Nope.”
The blasted man gave a lopsided grin. “Scared?”
“No. Terrified.”
He threw back his head and gave a deep, belly-rumble kind of laugh. Once he thankfully came to a stopping point with his boisterous chuckle, he dropped his hand. “Terrified of innocent ol’ me?”
“You, sir, are anything but innocent.”
He shrugged, grabbed the peavey and oars, and pivoted. In another breath, he pitched the line to the bateau inside the boat, successfully freeing it from the banks. “Suit yourself, but if you float out to open water you’re on your own.”
“And you’ll be stranded here.”
“Perhaps for the night, but I can find my way home in the morning.” At that, he disappeared into the brush, leaving her to rock gently in the boat as it inched into open water with each ebb of a gentle wave.
Her face grew flush, and every creak of the trees in the forest and croak of the local frogs screamed in her ears. She scrambled to sn
atch up the line and jump from the boat. Water drenched the hem of her skirt as she secured the line. She searched the brush where he’d disappeared. “Wait!”
Carrie ran through the opening, following Simon’s spiked boot prints. What in Hades was he thinking, leaving her stranded like that, and with predators behind every tree? Well, not every tree, but there were bears and cougars. Simon had proved that last year. And he was one of the strongest, most fearsome men she knew. Now he forced her to make a choice between giving into his wishes, or floating away to take on the predators of the lake. Were there predators in the lake? Did that story in the Missoulian last year about the man who saw a water monster take place in this lake, or one in some far-off country? Either way, it didn’t matter. He’d tricked her into obedience. Okay, it was little more than she had done to him when she had lured him to Aunt June’s house so they could chloroform him and skirted him away to camp. But still.
In a few steps, she saw Simon, and the rapid beat of her heart—along with the image of the water monster from the Missoulian—dissipated. He lounged against the trunk of a half-dead pine, the oars on the ground at his feet, as if he hadn’t just left her for dead. The blasted man smirked. “I knew you’d see things my way.”
She stopped in front of him and fought to catch her breath from the exertion of the small hike. “Don’t start taking your boots off. I simply didn’t want you to have to stay the night here is all. Feel free to return to the boat once you’ve rested your shoulder.”
The sparkle in his eye deepened to a smolder, and his jaw firmed. The fading light from the sun shadowed the lines of his face and enhanced the scar across his cheek. Her fingers itched to run along the smooth lines of the healed wound. To take the pain of last year away with one swipe of her finger. If only she could ease his burdens like he had many times in her life. Then he’d be whole enough to find the man he once was meant to be.
Wild Passion Page 9
