Now it was Iris who couldn't look Monty in the eye. Both her parents had tried to hurt him, and she had tried to take advantage of him, yet he was still looking after her, still worried about her. He had even left his herd to come find her. What had she done except be trouble from the first day to the last?
"Any more questions?"
Iris shook her head.
Monty relaxed. "Then I want you to forget all of this," he said. "It's over and done with."
"How can I? My father tried to kill you, and my mother tried to break up your brother's marriage. You ought to hate me."
"It didn't take me long to find out you aren't anything like your parents. Each time you've been faced with a problem, you've done something Helena would never do."
If she could just be sure he wasn't saying all this just to make her feel better. She had never given Monty any credit for kindness -- he'd always been so rough on her -- but she did now. He had been nothing but kindness from the start. She had been too self-absorbed to see it.
Nothing has changed. You're still thinking of no one but yourself, and he's still having to neglect his responsibilities to look after you.
"You ought to go away and leave me to go to Wyoming by myself," Iris said. "I've been nothing but trouble."
"I thought you wanted to go back to St. Louis."
That startled Iris. She hadn't thought of St. Louis in so long she could hardly remember having sworn to go back.
"I used to. I wanted to show them I was every bit as good as they were." She thought of Anna and Jane, Lloyd, Tom, and Calvin, all the people whose good opinion she had considered essential nine months ago. They wouldn't approve of her being on this drive, they especially wouldn't approve of her being alone with Monty, yet she wouldn't change one thing she had done if she could. "I don't feel that way any more. I realized right after you overheard me talking to Carlos I didn't want to go back. It's just as well. They won't speak to me once they know."
"I doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does."
"It doesn't matter to me."
Iris really wanted to believe him, but Monty had never lived in towns or cities. He didn't know the power of society, or the importance of what other people thought of you. And he had no idea that other people's opinions could be based entirely on the nature of a person's birth.
He had no idea that being born a bastard was only a little less terrible than being a whore.
"Maybe not now when you're hundreds of miles from anywhere," Iris said, "but your family wouldn't think that way. And you wouldn't either, not if it concerned your wife or children."
"You've got a lot to learn about the Randolphs," Monty said, "one thing in particular."
They were descending into a hollow between two ridges. Iris saw the beginning of bushy growth a short distance away. A little further on a ribbon of trees in the bottom of the hollow betokened the presence of a stream. Monty evidently intended to make camp here for the night rather than attempt to return to the herd.
She had been wondering what he meant to do. She had found retracing her steps nearly impossible even in the light. Now that it was dark, she couldn't imagine how he could find his way back to camp. Everything looked the same to her.
"We don't care what other people think," Monty was saying. "George married Rose even though her father fought for the Yankees and we all wanted him to get rid of her. Madison married Fern even though he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to Boston."
"And you?"
"I've been telling people to go to hell ever since I was old enough to say the words."
The shadows deepened as they traveled deeper and deeper into the vale between the ridges. Salmon and bluish-purple streaked the sky above, but the fading light didn't reach them. They seemed to be sinking into a greenish-grey haze that hovered a few feet above the deep grass. She could make out the faint sound as water from a spring trickled over gravel and among the clumps of grass to grow into a stream. An occasional bird chattered, disturbed on its roost. Even in the still air of the early evening, the cottonwoods rustled noisily.
Iris leaned into the curve of Monty's arm. He thought he didn't care, but he would. Sooner or later he would have to care. It would be nice if they could ignore the world. It felt good to be in his arms. For the first time in months she felt safe.
He wanted to give her support, confidence in herself, but she knew it was only temporary. Sooner or later it would be taken away. Not even Monty could protect her from the world.
"What did Betty say when she found out?"
"She doesn't know. Nobody does."
"But how did you find out?"
"Carlos told me after I left the camp."
"But if you didn't know, why did you come?"
Monty looked at her in surprise. "I couldn't leave you out here. It's dangerous."
"I didn't see anything but miles and miles of grass."
They had reached the bottom of the ravine. A small grove of trees had sprung up on a sandy bottom where two springs came together to form a small pool. A small stream flowed out the far side. The air was cool under the trees. After the heat of the plains above, Iris shivered. Monty jumped down from Nightmare. Iris allowed herself to slide into the saddle while he tethered her horse.
"You didn't answer my question."
Monty turned to help her dismount. She looked down into his eyes and wondered why it had taken her so long to realize she loved this man. All those years she had spent flirting with school boys, being spoiled by men of address and means, she had never been in danger of falling in love with any of them because she had never forgotten Monty. Next to him, the rest just couldn't measure up. They might be better looking or richer -- all of them were more adept at the art of courtship -- but not one of them could make her feel so safe and secure. She had never looked to them when she had a problem or worried about her future. It had always been Monty.
Now that they were sequestered in this cool glen, miles from anyone, alone, safe from the world, and Monty stood looking up at her with eyes that seems to brim with love. She didn't care if he never answered her question. If she could just stay here forever, nestled in the comfort and safety of his arms, she promised she would never ask for anything more.
But she knew it was impossible. The world would find them and drive her away. She no longer had a future. It had been taken away. No matter how much he loved her, the gulf between them would remain. She was grateful for the comfort and assurance, but it didn't change anything. She was one of the unclean. She wasn't good enough for him. Sooner or later he would say goodbye.
Monty held up his arms to help her down. Pushing aside a desire to throw herself in his arms and cry her heart out, Iris slid out of the saddle and into Monty waiting arms.
"I came for several reasons," Monty said, making no move to put her down. "I guess the most important is that I love you."
Chapter Twenty-two
Iris couldn't believe her ears. Nor could she believe the way she felt. For weeks she had longed for Monty to say those words. She had believed they would make everything in the universe fall into place. Yet the moment he looked into her eyes as though he really loved her, the moment the hope she had so carefully controlled broke its bonds and soared aloft, her heart sank.
He couldn't love her. Nobody could love her now.
"Did you hear what I said?" Monty asked. "I said I loved you."
"I heard."
Monty looked nonplused. "I expected more of a reaction than that. But I guess you can't go to blushing and swooning when you don't love me. I won't say an--"
"But I do love you," Iris hastened to assure him. He looked so hurt and confused, like he'd finally figured out how to do the right thing and couldn't understand why it hadn't worked. "I've been in love with you for years."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you were too busy trying to send me back to Texas."
Monty had the grace to look abashed. Briefly. Then his wolfish gri
n broke out again.
"I didn't really mean it."
"You sure convinced me."
Iris tried to twist in his arms so she could look him in the face, but it was hard to stare down such a brazen creature as Monty under the best of circumstances. It was impossible when she was being held tightly in his arms.
"Can I convince you I've changed my mind?"
More than anything in the world Iris wanted to believe Monty. She told herself if he loved her enough, nothing else would matter. They could hide in the wilds of Wyoming and never come out again.
Some nagging inner voice tried to tell her she was making a foolish mistake, but Iris wouldn't listen. It wasn't what she wanted to hear. She wanted to believe Monty loved her. She needed to believe it.
"You could try."
Monty let her slip from his arms, her body sliding intimately across his, until her feet touched the ground. Once she was balanced on her own feet, he released her, took her face in his hands, and gently covered her mouth with kisses.
"This is for the times I wanted to kiss you but didn't because I thought I shouldn't."
"When did you decide it was all right?" she asked, her lips barely parting from his long enough to form the words. She placed her hands on his, holding them to her face, thrilled by his touch, happily yielding to their strength.
"This morning after I left you."
"But we'd been fighting."
"I think best when I fight."
Iris decided she would never understand Monty. But as long as he would hold her and tell her he loved her, nothing else was important.
He held her face in his hands and kissed her with all the hunger of a man who's been denied far too long. His lips covered her mouth. Iris wanted to laugh aloud when he kissed her eyes and the tip of her nose. He forced her lips apart and his tongue invaded her mouth, electrifying Iris's entire being. Her tongue joined with his in a sinuous dance of their joining.
"Women don't like to fight," Iris said, pulling his hands down to her waist and slipping into the circle of his arms. "We like to be pampered and cared for. It's hard to feel loved when you're being shouted at."
"I'll never shout at you again," Monty vowed. "I promise to whisper everything in your ear."
Iris doubted she'd understand a word if he insisted upon blowing in her ear. Even before the tingling sensation had subsided, she felt the warmth of his tongue as it traced the outline of her ear. She melted inside.
If Lloyd had had the courage to handle her this way that sultry summer afternoon, maybe she wouldn't have pushed him into the water. If she ever pushed Monty overboard, she knew he'd pull her in with him. She shivered with pleasure. It didn't sound like such a bad thing.
"Do you promise never to tell me to go back to Texas?" Iris asked. She meant to say send me away, but he was kissing the back of her neck. It made it hard for her to think.
"I promise to make you forget anything but where you are."
It wouldn't be hard as long as she was with him. Even now she could hardly remember she was in the middle of the western Kansas prairie hidden in a grove of cottonwood trees at the bottom of a ravine. She was in Monty's arms, his aroused body pressed tightly against her own, his lips devouring the sweetness of her neck and shoulders. There wasn't room in her mind for anything else.
The pressure of her breasts hard against his chest caused her nipples to become achingly sensitive. Even as Monty's hands caressed her back, massaged the skin between her shoulders, pulled her close to him, she felt the lines of pleasure began to reach out from her breasts to the rest of her body. They seemed to regroup at the spot in her abdomen where Monty's arousal threatened to burn a brand in her sensitive skin.
The flow reversed when Monty unbuttoned her shirt, reached inside her chemise, and covered her breast with his cold, rough hand. Iris gasped at the shock; at the same time she leaned against him hoping to intensify the feeling. Keeping their lips locked in a series of passionate kisses, Monty managed to loosen her shirt enough to slip it over her shoulder. He untied the top of her chemise and laid bare her breasts.
Iris's knees nearly bucked under her when his lips touched an achingly sensitive nipple. Pulling himself away, Monty untied his blanket from the saddle and spread in on the ground. As Monty laved her breast with his hot, insistent tongue, Iris sank, helpless, to the ground.
Iris put her hands around Monty's neck and pressed him against her. She couldn't seem to get enough of his touch. She wanted to be covered with the feel of him, to be engulfed by his body, to be absorbed into his being until she was no longer Iris Richmond but a permanent part of Monty Randolph. Maybe then she could believe he loved her, believe all the terrible things in her past didn't matter now, would never matter again.
She pulled him up until his lips captured her mouth. Her frantic fingers hurried to unbutton his shirt. She gloried in the feel of the huge powerful muscles that rippled so easily under the smooth, warm skin. She pressed her breasts against the roughness of his chest until she felt absorbed.
She offered no resistance when Monty sought to remove the rest of her clothes. She couldn't wait to lie next to him, their bodies entwined, her whole being free to belong to him.
She thought she had remembered every sensation, every feeling, every second of that night in the tepee. But as Monty's lips once again tasted one aching nipple and his fingertips teased a second, and his other hand moved down her body until it found the nub of her desire, Iris felt like she had never experienced anything like this in her whole life. Her entire body seemed to become a mass of erotic sensation, feelings bombarded feelings until every sinew was stretched so tight Iris felt she would snap in two.
But even as Iris thought herself incapable of feeling more, Monty's hungry mouth moved down her body until he found her very core. Iris rose off the ground with a cry as old as the coupling of man and woman, her body arching against him in a surge of feeling so intensely wonderful she thought she would never be able to feel anything again. Wave after wave swept her body and she felt as though her life were gushing out of her on a floodtide.
But even as the waves began to recede, Monty wouldn't let her rest. With hand and mouth and tongue he plundered her body, searching out her pleasure spots, rekindling the fever inside her until she felt she would be consumed by it. When he at last moved between her legs, Iris threw herself at him desperate for release.
But Monty wasn't nearly so impatient. With maddening deliberation, he continued to stoke the tension within her. Iris wrapped her legs around his body attempting to force him to release her from this prolonged agony, but she was helpless against Monty's strength. He continued to torture her body until she felt herself growing weak. She seemed to be losing her hold on Monty. Everything seemed less clear, less solid.
Then just as she feared she would pass out, Iris felt the tension break like a wall of water, a torrent gushing and streaming and flowing from her.
She was only dimly aware of the heat of Monty's seed spilling inside her as she slipped into a quiet oblivion.
* * * * *
Monty stood up. "I think it's time to get going."
They had finished a supper of beans and bacon Monty had cooked. He took her plate down to the stream and washed it along with his own.
"Going where?"
"Back to camp."
"But we'll be in the saddle practically all night. Wouldn't it be better to sleep here and leave early in the morning?" She didn't want to give him up to his responsibilities, at least not for a few hours yet.
"Hen and Salty are in Dodge, so I had to leave Tyler in charge. I won't be able to sleep for worrying about what could happen while I'm gone."
Iris let Monty lift her into the saddle, but she felt her spirits sink. She tried not to feel rejected, but she couldn't escape the fear she had used up her allotted time and was being set aside while Monty took care of his next duty. He couldn't like her as much as he said. She couldn't be very important to him if he couldn't forget his co
ws for just one night.
* * * * *
Iris knew something was wrong long before they reached the campsite. "There's been a stampede," Monty said when they found a swath of torn-up ground.
"Do you think it's our herd?" Iris asked. Even her inexperienced eye had no trouble seeing the trampled grass in the moonlight.
"It has to be. There's not another one this size in this part of Kansas."
As they followed the path of the stampede, it became increasingly clear it couldn't have been any other herd. Monty kicked Nightmare into a gallop. He had put his saddle on the zebra dun for Iris, but she couldn't keep up with him. Rather than leave her behind, Monty took hold of the bridle and practically dragged the zebra dun into camp.
It was not yet dawn, but everyone was saddling up. Much to her surprise the camp looked exactly as they had left it.
"It was Frank," Tyler said. "They weren't interested in attacking us. They just wanted the herd."
"Why didn't you go after him?" Monty asked.
"There weren't enough of us," Tyler replied. "I sent Zac to Dodge for Hen and Salty."
"We were just getting ready to leave when you rode up," Hen said. He looked up from folding his bed roll. He pointed to the trail. "We won't have any trouble following them."
"Anybody hurt?" Monty asked.
"Young Danny Clover," Hen told him, his expression as clear an accusation as any words could have been.
"How badly?"
"He's dead. He was on night duty. They strangled him so he couldn't sound the alarm."
Monty didn't have to say a word for Iris to know he held himself responsible for the boy's death. Neither did Hen have to say anything for her to know he agreed with Monty.
But she knew who was really responsible. She was. Monty would never have left the herd if she hadn't taken out over the prairie like a silly idiot. If Monty hadn't followed her, he might somehow have prevented the attack. He might have saved the boy.
"When did it happen?" Monty asked.
"About midnight," Tyler said.
"Then they've only got six hours on us. We ought to catch them tonight. Everybody mount your fastest horse. We ride out in fifteen minutes."
Iris Page 28
