Wild Dawn

by Cait London

  MacGregor lowered his brows to glare back at her. Placing her hands on her waist, Regina returned the look.

  “This is a man’s place,” he stated roughly, when what he really wanted to do was sweep her into his arms and kiss her. “Wives aren’t welcome.”

  Regina straightened her shoulders, and MacGregor’s eyes immediately swept to her full bosom, thrusting at the dark gingham dress. A button had opened, and the swell of her breasts, nestled in lace trim, tantalized him. Fascinated by the small bit of soft flesh, he leaned closer only to be met by two dark amethyst eyes.

  Belle’s husky voice slid between them. “So this is your wife, MacGregor. No wonder you spent so much time this winter making that baby she’s carrying....”

  Her voice drifted off when Regina turned slowly to stare at her.

  “It’s true, then... Mr. MacGregor has been bragging about his prowess? Who says I carry his baby?”

  Belle’s thin penciled eyebrows lifted. “Honey, he’s got baby maker written all over him. Says you spent the winter as his wife....”

  Regina turned slowly to MacGregor and reached to pluck a whorl of hair from his chest. She smiled as he grimaced and rubbed the painful spot. “Does he now? Did he tell you that he gave me the choice to marry him or freeze to death in a mountain cabin?”

  She tapped his bearded jaw with her finger. “You’ve been brawling and bragging and you smell like cheap perfume. I’ll keep Jack, poor lad... until you can collect him like a proper gentleman. Pierre, you may come to the house for MacGregor’s things.”

  She crooked a finger at Pierre who stood slowly, looking sheepish as a boy with his finger caught in the jam pot. “Come along, Pierre. The ride to the farm in the fresh air will clear your head. You shouldn’t have let MacGregor lead you astray—evil, womanizing blackguard that he is.”

  She glanced at Belle and firmed her lips. “It seems that Mr. MacGregor boasts about this marriage and his ability to act as stud, then easily leaps into another bed. My child won’t be reared by a man who tosses his vows away for”— she glanced at Belle’s ample bosom— “a beautiful, desirable woman. You’re invited to our first ladies’ tea on Thursday. Beulah will give you directions.”

  With that Regina walked out into the sunlight, and MacGregor was left with the sight of her swaying hips and a raging hunger. Pierre glanced at MacGregor and shrugged, following her.

  “She’s mad as a wet hen,” Belle stated flatly. “Can’t say that I blame her. If my man had gone off for two days, drinking and brawling, and didn’t let me know... especially with his brat in my belly, I’d kick him out, too.”

  Preening her curled locks, she glanced at the cracked mirror. “Beautiful and desirable, she said. Came from a real lady, too.... MacGregor, you’d better mend your ways to keep that one. Better start wooing her back right quick afore others get the idea that she needs a man around for that new baby.”

  MacGregor picked up his hat, jammed it on his head, and stalked out the door.

  He caught Regina by the upper arm and turned her to him.

  “MacGregor, go easy, my friend,” Pierre warned softly, touching him on the shoulder. “Be careful.... She is enceinte—with child.”

  Her hand flew to her stomach to cover the babe, and MacGregor followed the action.

  “Violet, you’re carrying my baby,” he whispered unevenly, watching her eyes, twin purple pools, widen and fill her pale face. Then his hand covered hers, and the look of awe softened his dark face.

  “Of course I am,” she returned huskily. “You’ve made sure of that, haven’t you? Proving yourself on any woman available?”

  She thrust his hand aside and glared up at him. “You wouldn’t have come close to having me, MacGregor—”

  “I haven’t had a woman since you.... Can’t remember any other women.... A man has rights,” he stated darkly, his head throbbing as the sunlight burned his eyes.

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Rights? With you in there”—she pointed at Lacy’s weathered boards— “seducing a woman into your bed to prove your abilities? And the whole countryside laughing behind my back?”

  MacGregor jerked his hat from his head and ran his unsteady fingers through his hair. “Damn it, Violet. I haven’t wanted another woman. But if a wife doesn’t provide for a man’s needs, he’s got a right to—”

  The words caught in his throat as tears welled up in her purple eyes, spiking the black lashes. “Oh.”

  The soft sound cut him like a knife.

  ~**~

  Pierre glanced uneasily at the tears rolling down Regina’s cheeks. “My friend longs for you, ma belle. His heart aches for you every minute.... Because he is in the agony of love.”

  Regina threaded her fingers through Je t’aime’s reins restlessly and wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her dress. “Love.... You don’t need to lie for him, Pierre. I saw the way he was... was fondling that woman. Foraging like a hungry bear for honey between her breasts. The indecent way she was sitting on his lap—”

  She glanced at Pierre and blushed, looking away into a stand of shimmering aspen trees. “He’s never said he loved me. Not once.”

  “My friend has love in his heart. But his life was hard and he finds words difficult.”

  Lilly ran to meet them, her long braid swaying down her back. She struggled with Jack’s weight on her hip, then carefully placed him on his feet. Jack saw Regina and squealed in delight, toddling toward her.

  Pierre tensed, entranced with the vision of Lilly’s beauty sweeping toward them. “Mon Dieu! She is a goddess, a dream, a pearl—”

  The Chinese girl ran to Regina and walked beside the horse, her expression concerned. “Miss Violet, you have found MacGregor? Does he live?”

  Pierre swung down from his horse and walked beside the girl.

  The top of Lilly’s head came just to his chest, her hair gleaming like black silk in the sun. Her fingers, clinging to Regina’s dark skirt, were fragile and golden, delicate as flower petals. Beneath the long-sleeved, simple shift that covered her from head to toe, the girl’s slight body caused his heart to beat faster. When she glanced up at him shyly, he fell into the soft, black almond eyes. “My name is Pierre. I’m a friend of MacGregor’s and Violet’s.”

  “Ah.” Lilly nodded simply. “No MacGregor come back to house?”

  The sweet singsong tone drifted over him like gentle spring rain.

  Regina sniffed, brushing away a tear. “I’ve banished him, Lilly. You should have seen him, looking like a pasha... burying his face in his harem girl’s enormous bosom. Nuzzling her like a child looking for milk.”

  “MacGregor?” the girl asked softly, looking questioningly up at Pierre. “But, Miss Violet, his eyes say he loves you—”

  “Posh! MacGregor is a plain-spoken man. He has a mouth—he can speak for himself.”

  Regina sniffed and brushed away a tear, dismounting in a swirl of skirts and long hair. “He cuddles Jack, yet does he ever touch me without acting like a bull in heat? And when he’s denied what he wants, to murder my father and Alfred Covington, he sulks like a spoiled child. At times his moods are no better than Jack’s.”

  Tossing a rippling strand away from her breast, Regina looked at antelope grazing in the distance. The birdcalls and squirrels chattering filled the air as Lilly held her hand. Jack toddled closer, a grin on his jam-covered face. He lifted his arms to Regina, and she lifted him for a close hug.

  “Mama,” Jack cooed, hugging her and wrapping his fingers in her hair.

  “My beautiful lad,” Regina whispered huskily, nuzzling Jack’s black hair. “I shall miss you.”

  She turned to Pierre. “I want MacGregor’s personal things returned to him today. I want no reminder—”

  Jack’s jam-covered lips smacked hers noisily. “Mama.”

  MacGregor’s little image looked up at her with big black eyes and chubby cheeks, grinning widely to beguile her heart.

  In the next instant Regina handed Jack to Pierre and raced f
or the shelter of the cabin, her skirts flying.

  The next morning Pierre arrived in Primrose. He tossed MacGregor’s clean folded clothes onto the cot at Beulah’s.

  “Violet is good and mad,” he said quietly. “She cried all night. She tore my heart. An enceinte woman must not be so upset. It is bad for the bebe. You must make amends and quickly, my friend.”

  MacGregor leaned back in the chair. “Amends? There’s two mad men coming after her while she plans a tea party for the women. She wants my promise not to hunt them down. She’s carrying my baby, damn it. A man wants to protect his own.... She thinks I’m bedding every woman in the territory.”

  Beulah placed his clothes on a shelf next to hers. “Women have pride, too, MacGregor. She’s cut herself a place out there, settling the land. You’d best not do anything to make her want to lift that thick scalp of yours. Better try a little honey. Violet isn’t the kind to let a man push her around. Wouldn’t hurt you to court her. Let her know you think she’s mighty fine.”

  The mountain man stared at her. “Court her? She’s my wife, Beulah,” he growled indignantly.

  Beulah looked at Pierre. “You’d better start before that baby in her belly grows much more. Sweet talk won’t choke you, MacGregor.”

  “Pretty hard to sweet-talk a woman with a baby in tow and another woman living in the cabin,” he shot back.

  “Two babies soon,” Pierre corrected softly. “The beautiful Lilly is mine, my friend. I will ask for her hand when the time is right. I will assist you by entertaining my heart’s desire.”

  MacGregor muttered, “‘Heart’s desire.’ You throw words like that around Violet, and she’d—”

  “Melt,” Beulah finished flatly. “Women melt.”

  ~**~

  The marquess squatted by Covington’s prone body and smiled, clinically examining the slash across the younger man’s throat. Blood seeped into Covington’s linen shirt and dripped down into the pine needles. The earl’s blue eyes looked helplessly up at Mortimer-Hawkes, blood welling up from the cut across his throat as he tried to speak.

  “A fitting end, Lord Covington,” Mortimer-Hawkes murmured, wiping his long thin blade on the dying man’s lace handkerchief. “You’ve bungled for the last time. Now that I know Regina is settled near Primrose, I won’t need you anymore.”

  When Covington gurgled, his bloody hand reaching out to Mortimer-Hawkes, the older man nudged it aside with his boot. “Pagan isn’t from my loins, you know. A distant, wealthy cousin paid me to take her mother, Mariah. And of course the heathen dowry.... Jewels, Lord Covington. Worth more than you believe.... A giant ruby—the Mariah—has a power that will make me a king. When Pagan is mine and the jewels are safely in my hand, I shall be all-powerful... a living god whose wishes are obeyed without question....”

  The marquess settled down on an Oriental carpet and lounged amid tasseled, satin pillows while Covington’s life seeped away on the pine needles. Lifting a flask to his mouth, Mortimer-Hawkes watched the spreading stain with slight interest. “She’s carrying MacGregor’s child now. Nothing must harm Pagan until she has had the child. I’ll settle in Primrose, waiting for her to give birth. Pagan’s child will give me even more power.”

  A gurgle sounded from the dying man, and Mortimer-Hawkes sipped more brandy. “Yes, you’re right. My power lies in the Mariah and the woman who owns it. Nothing can happen to either one of them. MacGregor is another matter. She’s bedded him, and I’ve found that there’s a certain loyalty to the Mariah women. Their honor prevents them from taking another mate easily. MacGregor will have to die, of course.... Then I shall have the Mariah and Pagan to myself.”

  ~**~

  MacGregor lay on a blanket, his arms braced behind his head as he studied the stars. With the English camping to the north, he decided to spend the night near Regina.

  The summer night’s breeze swayed the pine branches above him, the scent mingling with the fragrance of wild rose and Indian strawberry. The mountain daisies’ sweet perfume reminded him of a more exciting fragrance... that of Regina’s soft skin.

  He wanted Regina for himself now.... MacGregor came off the blanket in a single lithe movement and bent to roll it tightly.

  Cattails surrounding a small mountain lake swayed in the moonlight, reminding him of the way she’d danced with the shawl. The brilliant fabric had clung to her pale limbs, sliding down her thighs and beckoning him to the quivering softness of her hips. With her hair flowing around her, Regina had taken him into her heat, nipping at his throat with her teeth. Her nails had scored his back lightly, driving him deeper into the silky depths of her arms.

  Her purple eyes stared up at him from the lake, the water rippling like the strands of her hair.

  MacGregor brushed a daisy with his palm, the petals soft as Regina’s skin. He’d felt the thrust of his unborn child when he kissed her, noted the changes in her swelling breasts.

  Bending beneath a willow branch, MacGregor found himself standing in the meadow near Regina’s cabin.

  Regina lay on the blanket in the meadow, dozing lightly amid her bouquet of daisies. Tears dampened her cheeks, her long shuddering sighs of exhaustion sweeping along the evening breeze. She needed the time alone, away from Jack’s needs and Lilly’s worried eyes, and had carried a soft cotton blanket out into the field. When she dreamed, night-black eyes gleaming with desire stared down at her. MacGregor’s voice, deep and hoarse with need, whispered in her ear.

  His mouth suckled each finger, playing with the simple ring before he inhaled unevenly and placed her hand over his heart.

  Large, gentle hands swept down her legs, tugging the cotton shift higher, lifting it away from her body. Gently, gently, MacGregor’s lips brushed her throat, finding the fast beating pulse beneath her skin.

  Then the dream lay beside her, holding her close. His lips slid to tease her hardened nipple, his fingers slyly caressing the damp nest between her thighs.

  Her fingers foraged through the whorls of hair covering his muscled chest, her fingertip tracing the flat male nipple until it hardened. MacGregor’s cool hair slid across her stomach, his lips kissing the small mound of their unborn babe. With exquisite touch he lingered there, caressing the life they’d created.

  A gentle hand swept the curve of her waist, raising to brush the tender swell of her breasts.

  MacGregor. With infinite care he traced the swelling curve, then lowered his mouth to reverently taste the hardened tip. His face rested hot between her softness, tasting first one rounded globe, then the other with the tip of his tongue.

  She ached from his sweet touch, his soft, passionate voice flowing into the night.

  His fingers strolled down to her hip, testing the rounded curve, fitting it into his warm palm before moving down to her knee. Ever so slowly, he raised her knee, smoothing the sensitive back with his warm lips.

  Beneath her fingers, the cords and muscles of his body rippled and moved to her caress.

  Floating in the exquisite dream, Regina’s hands smoothed his ribs and moved downward to cup his hard buttocks in her hands. Lightly, stealthily she trailed her fingertips between his hard thighs, finding the soft treasure beneath.

  “Violet, love me,” MacGregor’s rough, deep voice urged against her throat.

  The dream’s hand caressed her breast, molding it for the suckling of his hot mouth. The sweet pleasure rippled through her as he plied her tender breasts.

  Then she was awake, and the dream became the reality of MacGregor, his strong arms quivering as he braced himself over her. The planes of his face caught the moonlight as she moved against him, desire sharpening his taut features. “Love me... take me, Violet. End this ache I carry for you—” he urged unevenly.

  With a cry Regina opened her arms to him and drew him against her.

  “Love me,” he urged passionately, the beat of his heart heavy against her breasts.

  In a moment he surged against her soft thighs, sheathing his desire within her tight, mois
t depths. His deep sigh brushed her flushed skin, his hand skimming down her flesh to seek her rounded hips.

  Her senses ignited, exploding as the turgid tip of his manhood touched her deepest depths.

  MacGregor stilled above her, the muscles of his back taut with the effort of reining his needs. When the sweet rippling pleasure slid away, she looked up at him. MacGregor smiled tenderly, his fingertip trembling as he swept a damp tendril from her cheek.

  Resting lightly against her, he frowned, studying her mood as he arranged the wild disarray of raven hair away from her face.

  “I’ve missed you, Violet,” he whispered huskily, winding a silken strand around his finger. Kissing it, he placed his hot face against her throat.

  She shifted restlessly, still aching, and braced her foot on the back of his knee. The movement took his full length deeper, and Regina inhaled sharply, the heat beginning again within her. MacGregor shivered, his skin damp against hers as he lay so vulnerable in her arms.

  “There’s never been another woman. You are my heart,” he managed unevenly, smoothing her sensitive breasts. “For you to carry my child—” He eased away a bit and caressed the small mound of the baby tenderly.

  His kiss enchanted her, brushing, tormenting, nibbling. “Sweetheart, you’re still... needing,” she murmured, caressing the back of his knees with her soles.

  He lifted slightly, tracing the delicate lobe of her ear to find the ruby eardrop. “I can wait.”

  When she lifted her hips, he groaned suddenly and thrust deeper. “The baby—”

  “Shh,” she soothed, caressing his hot cheek and flowing against him.

  MacGregor’s taut body accepted her tentative thrusts, his face damp with perspiration. Then, with an unsteady sigh, he began to move. Caught in the wildfire, they climbed to the pinnacle of their passion to find release together.

  Moments later Regina’s cheek rested over MacGregor’s unsteady heartbeat, her limbs nestled with his. The night sounds and the fragrance enveloped the lovers. Drowsy and sated, Regina slowly skimmed her palm over his damp chest and smoothed his flat, rippling belly.